Rain Is Coming

The wind whistles through the trees,
Rain is coming.
Not a sound left except the jazz music played by the moth tapping against the light bulb,
Rain is coming.
The big ash tree where the birds used to dwell is empty,
Rain is coming.
The nimble skinks run under their rocks and the possums climb, climb, climb to find shelter,
Rain is coming.
The cracked earth fills with happiness,
The magpie calls to everyone twit, twit, twit,
Rain is coming.
The rocks shiver as the water from the stream rushes over them,
Rain is coming.
Pitter patter, the first rain drop falls followed by another and another,
The first clap of thunder roars and I look out my window,
Rain is here.

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